


Upset

by OzQueen



Series: CP 100 situations [29]
Category: Captain Planet and the Planeteers
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Forehead Kisses, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:49:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8761099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/pseuds/OzQueen
Summary: He'll forgo a normal day for just a few hours of this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know where this came from. This is all there is, even if it doesn't feel like a full story... think of it as a missing scene from somewhere, I guess. ;) Wheeler/Linka hurt/comfort.

* * *

The door to Linka's cabin swings shut behind them. She sinks onto the edge of her neatly-made bed, her face buried in her hands. "I cannot forget… I…"

Wheeler can feel the slight pitch of the cruise ship as he crosses the room and sinks down next to her. The strong smell of leather hides seems to cling to him; the dark shadows of rolled skins caught in his mind like a projector has jammed on the wrong slide. Tiger stripes and leopard spots. They'd opened the wrong door by chance, by _accident,_ and now…

He represses a shudder at the memory of that dark little room, all those skins hidden in the dark, being transferred from port to port under the cover of a pretty ocean cruise.

"How could anyone…" Linka's voice trails off helplessly. She looks down at her hands, her shoulders slumped. The strap of her dress has slipped down her arm, revealing smooth white skin.

Wheeler hooks his finger under it gently and lifts it back up over her shoulder. He puts his arm around her and pulls her against him. She doesn't resist — just leans into him and tucks her face against his neck, a small sob escaping.

Wheeler wishes the night had ended differently. No tears. No anger. Just — just normal. He just wanted a normal night. Everyone relaxed and looking nice. Dinner. A few drinks. Just a night off. That's all he wanted.

Just one night off.

Linka sniffs and wipes her eyes, but she doesn't pull away. "We should find whoever did this," she says.

Wheeler's heart sinks even further. "Yeah," he whispers, but he can't unclench his jaw and he can't let go of the bitterness coursing through him. He rubs his thumb up and down the outside of Linka's arm and thinks about how pretty she looks in the dress that matches her eyes and the shoes that raise her up to the perfect height for him to kiss her forehead without bending down.

"I am betting Plunder is behind this," Linka says. Her voice is still thick with tears.

He tightens his arm around her and she takes the opportunity to huddle closer to him, her fingers curling into the front of his shirt to anchor herself.

He wants to be selfish. He wants to say _It can wait until morning, babe_ , and he wants to fall backwards on the bed with her and hold her in his arms and let the sway of the ship send them to sleep. He wants to kiss her on the forehead before she takes those shoes off; kiss the smooth skin under the loose strap of her dress.

But he can't be selfish. He doesn't say _It can wait until morning, babe._ He says, "Why don't you get changed, and I'll find Kwame and the others and we'll figure out who did this."

He wishes they hadn't opened the wrong door.

"Do you think they are on the ship?" Linka asks softly. She doesn't move.

"Maybe. I dunno. Maybe we'll just have to see whoever's at the other end to collect 'em."

She draws a shuddery breath and lets it out against his shoulder. "Do you think we could just… Do you think we could just wait until then?" She lifts one hand and wipes away another tear.

Wheeler's thumb moves in slow strokes against her arm. "I guess it could save a lot of trouble," he says, trying to sound like he isn't overjoyed at the thought of delaying a Planeteer mission a few hours. "Once the ship docks, all we have to do is watch what happens to… to the stuff in that room…"

Linka nods.

"I think it's a good idea," he says. "We'll be able to think straight once we get some sleep. Right?"

" _Da_ ," she whispers. "Yes." She tips her head back against his shoulder and he looks down at her out of the corner of his eye. Her lashes are dark and wet and her skin is blotchy but she still looks so pretty he can feel his chest tighten.

An annoying little voice at the back of his head says they should be watching the room; they should be trying to get a head start on things, but there are so many skins… it will take hours for them to be transferred away. They have time.

"Will you stay?" Linka asks. "For a moment? Just for a moment." He listens to the way that hard little edge has crept back into her voice — protecting herself from whatever softness she might feel for him. Putting her shields up again bit by bit.

"Yeah, you got it," he says. He doesn't try to take the shields down again. He can still smell the leather; can still see the tiger stripes in the dark, loose and flat and nothing like a tiger should ever look. He can still feel the quiver of disgust trembling through Linka as she sits pressed against his side and he knows how upset she is and how hard she's trying not to be.

"We'll fix this," he promises her. "First thing in the morning, okay? When you've had some sleep."

"Okay," she says quietly.

The strap of her dress has slipped down again. Wheeler slides his thumb under it and pulls it up over her shoulder, just as he did before. Her skin is warm and soft. He keeps his arm around her and eases her down on the bed so her head is on his shoulder and their legs are still hanging over the edge of the mattress.

She still has her dress on. Still has her shoes on.

He can imagine her wearing her determination tomorrow like a suit of armor — slipping out of the soft blues she's wearing now and into her Planeteer uniform, that funny little crease over the bridge of her nose as she readies herself for their mission. Wheeler gazes up at the ceiling and wonders if she'll let him kiss her forehead when she wakes up.

_Nope,_ he thinks regretfully. His fingers slip carefully over the silky fabric stretching around her back, and she wriggles a little and burrows into him with a sigh.

"That tickles," she mumbles tiredly.

"Sorry." He grins against the top of her head. She's almost positioned at the right height — almost the same as though they were standing and she was in heels and he wouldn't even have to bend down to rest that perfect kiss just against her brow… and then her nose… and then her mouth…

She sighs, and her breathing evens out and he can tell she's close to falling asleep. His legs are still hanging off the bed and his lower back is starting to hurt. His fingers are prickling under the weight of Linka's body against his arm. His top button is still done up and his tie is still neatly knotted. His belt is digging into him.

He gazes up at the ceiling and feels Linka's breath sweet and warm against his throat and he knows he'll suffer hours more discomfort if it means more of that. Seeing her with her shields down before they go back up — part of that Planeteer uniform; part of that mission.

He takes a chance and turns his head ever so slightly, brushing his lips softly against her brow. "You okay?" he whispers.

"Mmhm," she answers, heavy with the promise of sleep. "Stay."

"You got it." He kisses her again, gently against her forehead, and her fingers tighten in the material of his shirt.

He'll forgo a normal day for just a few hours of this — this lull between missions, gentle touches and quiet preparation. Shields down and being rebuilt piece by piece as the stars roll over their ship in the night.

This is worth settling for.


End file.
